i live for the battle (i'm a soldier)
by halcyon epochs
Summary: 15 drabbles/oneshots about the boy who saved the world. Different pairing each chapter, not all romantic. Latest: [9. NevilleHermione, AdultWorker!AU)
1. idiosyncrasy

**Challenges**

Creativity Month - Muggle AU - Highschool!AU

Cocktail Corner- Starter Pack - Neville/Luna

Jewel Challenge - Ruby Necklace - Write about a Gryffindor

Insane House - 528. Trait- Defending

 **Writing Club**

Character Appreciation - 19. Write about a bully.

Disney Challenge - Flounder - Write about a supportive friend.

Showtime - Mister Cellophane - (character) Neville Longbottom

TV Show of the Month - Tara Maclay: (character) Luna Lovegood, (item) skirt, (action) hugging

Book Club - Alex Ridgemont: (character) Luna Lovegood, (object) camera, (dialogue) "You're kind of notorious for being a lying, thieving bastard."

Liza's Loves - Pixelator - Item: Camera

Count Your Buttons - (object) camera, (word) moon

* * *

 _For Olive_

* * *

The first time he sees her, she's wearing a camera around her neck and a bright yellow skirt that hugs her waist.

Neville doesn't think much of her, initially, except that she is very, very peculiar, but he doesn't think much of it.

The next time, however, is a different story.

He's strolling through the corridor after school with Harry when he spots Draco and his lackeys crowded around someone with taunting sneers on their faces. He doesn't have to eavesdrop to hear what they're saying, and it's enough to make his blood boil.

"Loony Lovegood," Draco jeers, his hands clutching her trademark camera. He says some disparaging things about her, too obscene to repeat and Neville drops his books angrily in Harry's arms and tells him, "Go ahead without me," and storms over.

"Leave her alone!" he says, raising his voice above the clamor of the students.

"Look who it is, Loony's knight in shining armor," Draco drawls, turning slowly. "Here for your girlfriend, Longbottom?"

Neville clenches his fists. "You know, you're kind of notorious for being a lying, thieving bastard, but this is just crossing the line," he snarls, gesturing to Luna, who is on the ground with a terrified look in her eyes. "Leave her the hell alone, Malfoy."

"Or what?" Draco scoffs.

"You'll have to answer to me," Neville replies firmly. "Not to mention my friends, my family, the faculty, and Harry's parents, who have a higher rank than your parents and can easily get you and comrades suspended. Do you really want that, Malfoy?"

Draco looks mutinous, but he gestures to friends. "Fine. But this isn't over, Longbottom." He drops the camera and with a _crack,_ the lens splinters. He then stalks away, his minions trailing behind him and shooting menacing looks over their shoulders. Neville ignores them in favor of kneeling down next to Luna, who's shaking.

"Are you okay?" he asks gently, helping her gather her belongings, which were scattered on the floor. Her big, silver, moon-like eyes look up him gratefully.

"I'm fine," she whispers. "Thank you for helping me."

"It's not a problem," he says. "Draco Malfoy is a despicable human being with rich, influential parents. He deserves to have a taste of his own medicine."

He picks up her camera. The lens is shattered, but not damaged beyond repair, so he carefully tucks it into her bag.

"Thanks," she says again and starts to head in the other direction, but Neville, overcome by an impulse, pulls her into a hug.

"Anytime," he murmurs.

* * *

He sees her again and again. Whether in the halls, or in class (they have History together, but she sits in the back corner with Ginny. He spontaneously decides to switch seats with Ginny, so she can sit with Harry, her boyfriend), their friendship blossoms.

Luna is odd, but her sweetness makes up for it. She's kooky, her clothes varying from a magenta hat to Irish boots, and she's sarcastic and candid, which is something he appreciates about her.

It's May when their feelings begin to deepen into something more intense. The school is hosting a senior ball at the end of the semester and the requirement is that only senior students can attend, but they can bring juniors as dates.

Luna wants to go, because she wants to take pictures for the yearbook, but she's a junior. So Neville, out of the kindness of his heart, agrees to take her.

When Luna comes down the stairs, Neville's jaw drops open. She looks pretty, stunning, even. She's banished the eccentric clothing for a silver dress that compliments her eyes. Her hair is up in an elaborate updo and Neville can feel sweat collecting at the palms of his hands.

(Unbeknownst to him, Ginny snickers as she observes from upstairs. She had been the one behind the makeover, because she secretly wants her best friend and her boyfriend's close friend to get together.)

They kiss for the first time during a slow dance. Neville, enraptured by her beauty, and Luna, a blushing belle, dance to a waltz, and as the music decreases in pace, they're magnetically drawn towards each other.

Her lips taste of love and hope. That's when he decides he wants a future with this girl, this strange but wonderful girl.

(Ginny nudges her boyfriend as they kiss again. "Told you," she murmurs. "You owe me twenty euros and a snog.")

(Harry is happy to comply.)

* * *

 _740 words_


	2. amaranthine

**Writing Club**

Character Appreciation - 38. Pureblood

Disney Challenge - Eric - Write a Royalty!AU

Book Club - Miles Richter - (object) jacket, (trait) intelligent, (action) limping

Showtime - All I Care About - (object) Diamond ring

CYB - (word) Permission

Lyric Alley - But we took the step, and we took the leap

TV Show of the Month - Anya Jenkins - (pairing) Terry/Su Li, (item) money, (dialogue) "Look I know you find me attractive. I've seen you looking at my breasts."

 **Other Challenges**

Quilting Appreciation - Neville/Daphne

Creativity Month - Muggle!AUs - Royal!AU

Caffeine Awareness - English Coffee - Royalty!AU

Crafty Cooking - Pineapple - Royalty!AU

Insane House- 868. Trait- Lucky

Library Lovers - The Cuckoo's Calling - (Plot Point) Getting engaged, (Location) Balcony, (Item) Silk, green dress

* * *

 _Royal!AU_

* * *

Neville fingers the diamond ring in his pocket. Tonight is a very pivotal, momentous time for him, and as much he is looking forward to it, he is also dreading it, if fiddling with the buttons of his suit jacket wasn't a clear enough indication.

Obtaining permission from her parents had not been easy. They had been demurred at first, and it had taken a _lot_ of persuasion and large sum of money before they finally consented. It's a lucky thing that he's intelligent and as a royal, had been taught how to wheedle. But Neville was still having qualms.

What if this was a terrible idea? What if she said no? What if—

 _Click-clack._ A pair of green heels entering his line of vision interrupted his string of thoughts. His eyes dragged upwards, up silky smooth legs, emerald fabric, and a pair of voluptuous—

"Look, I know you find me attractive. I've seen you looking at my breasts," quips an amused voice, cutting through his fantasies. "There's no need to drool anymore."

Neville tears his eyes away and flushes scarlet as Daphne strides towards. She looks beautiful, exceptionally beautiful, and Neville feels a wave of queasiness wash over him.

"Oh hush," he says, his face burning. "You know I can't resist you when you look like that."

"Exactly, which is why I use that to my advantage," she shoots back. "Anyway, why did you ask me to come here wearing nice clothes?"

"I think we had different interpretations of the word 'nice'," he answers, gesturing to her attire. "Regardless, I think you'll be fine. It's only a picnic."

Daphne appraises the layout around him. "This is quite a feast."

He shrugs. "Nothing but the best for you, my love."

"Aw, no fair." She pouts. "I hate when you're so sweet. It turns me on, in a way."

Neville withholds a smirk and a reply of "I know." He simply pats the ground beside him and Daphne gracefully sits, crossing her legs and her dress splaying out around her.

"You want to know a secret?" he whispers conspiratorially. "The royal chefs actually owe me a favor. They were more than delighted to cater our date, but they gave me more than necessary."

Now he's getting into his rhythm.

"Well, lucky us," she murmurs, licking her lips tantalizingly and Neville swallows. Her mouth hovers close to his own and he can feel her breath tickling the corner of his lips. He leans in, expecting a kiss, and so does she.

And then, at the last second, pulls away. "We'd better get started," she says, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Neville stares, speechless/

That little _minx._

* * *

"That was quite some meal," Daphne says as she wipes her mouths with her napkin, leaving a smear of red lipstick. "But it was delicious. Thank your cooks for me."

Neville doesn't reply. A herd of butterflies has re-entered his stomach and beating their wings rapidly. He dips one finger into his pocket and is relieved when he feels the band.

"You know, I wonder what happened to Su Li," Daphne abruptly brings up. "Last I heard, she and Terry were going to get married."

Neville's heart does a little back-flip. There is his segue.

"Speaking of which, there's something I want to ask you," he says, a little breathless.

"Sure, go ahead."

The speech he had composed and meticulously memorized slips out of his head and he can't think.

 _How did it go...?_

Daphne gazes at him curiously. "Well?" she prompts.

 _To hell with it,_ he thinks and takes a deep breath, gets on one knee, and Daphne's hands fly to her mouth.

"Daphne Greengrass, will you marry me?"

She knocks him back with her answer. Quite literally.

"Neville, I...yes!" she cries, throwing herself at him. Neville grunts as her body weight slams into him.

"Ow!" he yelps as his leg bends an awkward way.

"Oh!" she gasps, rolling off of him. "Did I hurt you?"

In his haze of pain, he sees her beauty in all of its heavenly glory: ebony hair mussed, sapphire eyes glistening. And he thinks, _I'm a lucky man._

"N-Yup," he groans as he struggles to get his feet, pain pulsing through his leg.

"Ohmygod, I'm so sorry!" she cries, backing away.

"It's okay, you were elated," he squeezes out between his gritted teeth.

He manages to stand and limps over to Daphne. He leans on the terrace's railing.

It's a gorgeous night. The breeze breathes on the back of his neck and Daphne intertwines their fingers.

"You know I'm sorry, right?"

"I know."

And that's how they forgive each other. By communication.

She likes it simple and nontheatrical. Yet she is intricate, complex. It's confusing. But that's what made him fall for her among a multitude of quality traits.

And he's grateful that she loves him in spite of his occasional inelegance, his sporadic speech impediment.

Unconditional love.

* * *

 _820 words_


	3. felicity

**Writing Club**

Book Club - Charlie Ridgemont: (character) Ginny Weasley, (word) vocabulary, (dialogue): "Did you meet your soulmate? That always happens on the first day of school, right?"

Showtime - Nowadays (Roxie) - (dialogue) "Isn't it great?"

Days of the Month - True Confessions Day - Write about someone confessing something

CYB: (word) Euphoria

Liza's Loves - Stoneheart - Write about someone scared to admit their feelings

 **Other Challenges**

Creativity Month - Muggle!AUs - Roommate!AU

Insane House - 926. Relationship - Friends

* * *

 _Roommate!AU_

* * *

"Did you meet your soulmate? That always happens on the first day of school, right?"

Neville looked at Ginny oddly. "I'm sorry?"

"You know, the love of your life, your fated one, your match made in heaven—"

"I know what a soulmate is," he cut her off. "But why are you asking about my soulmate?"

Ginny scuffed her feet on the carpet. "I could be wrong, but I think I met mine today."

"Hold on. You're saying that you met your soulmate _today?_ How? When? More importantly, _who?"_

The redhead smiled shyly. "You know him. I bumped into him on the way to Advanced Bio this morning. He has emerald eyes, black hair, glasses—"

That was enough description for Neville. "You don't mean— _Harry?"_

Ginny nodded, her cheeks the color of her hair.

"That's...that's _wonderful,_ Gin. Isn't it great? My two best friends! Oh, _please_ tell me that he knows."

"I dunno." She shrugged. "I barely had any conversation with him. I ran into him accidentally, dropped my books, and he started helping me, and that's when my soulmate mark completed itself." She pulled back her sleeve to reveal her completed fire symbol.

There wasn't a word in Neville's vocabulary to describe the euphoria that overcame him. It was ineffable, but he was just too elated to care.

"Well, what're you waiting for?" he prompted. "Go and tell him!"

Ginny hesitated. "N-No! What if he rejects me?"

"Then I'll talk sense into him," Neville promised. "Go."

* * *

As Neville had envisaged it, it went perfectly. Of course it did, because those two were destined to be together.

There was a slightly bitter edge to his delight—the fact that he hadn't found his own soulmate. But in the end, he wasn't a party-pooper. It was Ginny's day, and he wasn't going to ruin it for her. She deserved to find love.

And Neville? Neville was perfectly content to wait.

* * *

 _318 words_


	4. evanescent

**Writing Club**

Character Appreciation - 17. Going through a hard time

Book Club - Ria Wolf: (setting) sporting event, (word) awkward, (object) bed

Showtime - Funny Honey - (dialogue) "He doesn't care."

Days of the Month - Get Over It Day - Write about a character getting over something.

CYB: (word) encouragement, (song) "Dying to Live" by Scott Stapp

 **Other Challenges**

Creativity Month - Muggle!AUs - Disability!AU

Crafty Cooking - Vodka - (character) Neville Longbottom, (AU) Amnesia

Quilting Appreciation Day - NevilleTheo

Insane House - 103. NevilleTheo

Jewel Challenge - Iolite Bracelet - Write about someone with amnesia

* * *

 _Disability!AU_

* * *

 **I. The End**

The last things Neville remembers is the squeal of tires, a deafening _crash,_ and then the smell of smoke. He can taste the metallic tang on blood in his mouth, feel a blinding pain in his head, and then, blackness.

 **II. The Dreams**

Visions dance through his head. He dreams of his mother's scrumptious lemon meringue pie, his father's delicious barbecued steak, of his friends' smiling faces. He doesn't want to leave this realm, this heaven he's in.

His fantasies are ephemeral. He feels himself drifting towards the surface, but something always drags him away.

He fights it.

 **III. The Awakening**

Neville wakes up with the sensation of someone pounding hammers against his skull. He blinks, disoriented, and then his eyes focus.

The first thing he's aware of is the emptiness. The room is excessively white, but vacant. He doesn't know why. The white hurts his eyes and he shuts them.

He searches his brain for any recollections of his arrival here. He can't find any. All he can feel is the throbbing in his head and the soft, cottony sheets of his bed.

There's a knock somewhere to his right at that precise moment. He turns his head in the direction of it and his mouth moves. "Yes?"

"Oh good, you've woken up." A person dressed in the same white as the room enters and Neville has to squint to discern them.

It's a man, judging by the blurred features of his face. He has a slanted nose and cropped brown hair and his eyes are a delicate shade of cerulean.

And that's when Neville _truly_ awakens.

 **IV. The Recovery**

Dr. Nott puts a name to the blankness of his brain. It's called amnesia.

Amnesia is your worst enemy at the moment, he says. It's hard to beat, nearly impossible, but it has and can be done.

He may never get his memories back, or at least, not all of them. It's a good thing, in a way, because there are certain things he would like to never recall again.

After twelve months of rehab, Neville has made a lot of progress, enough that he can go outside and socially interact. It's a huge leap, but he is more than prepared.

Dr. Nott escorts him. He dresses in a smart blue shirt that matches his eyes and he looks dapper. Neville, who is quite awkward even with memory loss, stumbles as he sees him. His doctor smiles at him and Neville feels warmth spread through his chest.

They visit a football game between Liverpool and Manchester City. There is a short intermission in which they invite members of the crowd to participate. Neville, who alone knows that Dr. Nott jogs in the morning, encourages him to join.

He doesn't win, but Neville is still proud of him.

 **V. The Confession**

Another four months go by. Neville feels a blooming sensation every time Dr. Nott walks into the room, a smile on his face.

This is the man who helped him recover. This is the one person apart from his family and friends who stuck by him. And now, he means so much more to him than ever before.

He loves this man with all of his heart.

 **VI. The Beginning**

Neville is finally released. He doesn't want to leave. There's someone who he's going to lose if he does.

His feelings are so passionate that he wrenches away from Harry the moment he walks out of those doors. He's vaguely aware of where he's headed.

(Ginny tries to call him back, but Harry tells her, "He doesn't care, let him go.")

Dr. Nott starts as Neville bursts into his room, out of breath.

"Neville, what are you—"

"I love you," he interrupts breathlessly. "I love you so much. I want to date you, marry you, and everything else. You're the only one for me."

Dr. Nott's expression is unreadable. Neville catches his breath.

"I love you too," he murmurs huskily.

And as Neville briskly crosses the room and kisses the daylights out of Dr. Nott - Theo - he's happier than ever.

(Later, after they have a heart-to-heart, Neville puts a name to the feeling—bliss.)

* * *

 _698 words_


	5. magnum opus

Written for...

 **Assignment 5 - |Home Economics & Domestic Magic| - **Task 2: Pancakes - Write about something that takes a long time to do.

 **Insane House -** 864\. Trait - Virtuoso

 **Creativity Month** \- |Muggle!AU| - Artist!AU

 **Jewel Challenge -** Iolite Necklace: Write about someone who expresses themselves in a creative way

 **Writing Club -** CYB **-** (character) Ron Weasley

 **Writing Club** \- |Liza's Loves| - The Evillustrator - Write an artist!AU

* * *

 _Artist!AU_

* * *

"Sit still," Neville urges. "It's not going to take that long. I just have to paint your legs and then I'll be done."

"But I've been sitting here for an _hour!_ _"_ Ron whines. "Does it really take _that_ long to paint _one_ bloody portrait?"

"Yes," Neville snapped, his patience with his client wearing thin. "Now just sit _still,_ or I'll tell Hermione that _you_ sold her favorite bra at the yard sale last month."

A look of horror crossed Ron's features. "You _wouldn't."_

"Try me." He smirked and Ron stiffened. Evidently, he'd thought Neville wouldn't resort to blackmail, but apparently, he had underestimated Neville's underhanded tactics of persuasion.

"Blimey, Neville, you're a devil in disguise." He stilled and fell silent, his lips pursed begrudgingly. Neville smiled serenely and resumed painting as his subject grew more uncomfortable by the minute. His mouth remained shut, however, which proved he was resolved to stay silent.

-:-

"All done!" declared Neville proudly no less than twenty minutes later. He scooted back his stool a few inches and admired the masterpiece he had just painstakingly painted.

"It's a shame I have to auction it off," he said mournfully. "I'm almost partial to this piece. I think it turned out _magnificent._ Look, Ron."

There was a series of _cracks_ as Ron stood up, grimacing. "This had better be worth it," he grumbled, limping over to the easel.

Neville rolled his eyes with irritation, but otherwise remained forbearing. "Well, what do you think?" he prompted, prodding Ron. "Is it decent?"

Ron's cerulean eyes enlarged, his jaw quite literally hitting the floor, which could have been interpreted as repulsion or astonishment. "Neville, mate, did you really paint this?" He took a step back, tilting his head.

He snorted incredulously. "No, it was my cat," he replied dryly, his eyes focused on Ron as he gauged his reaction. "Just tell me, is it good or bad?"

Ron's attention was transfixed on the painting, so Neville's question went in one ear and out the other. It was so _lifelike,_ the colors, the background, Ron himself—Neville had overemphasized his hair; it looked more like fire, but Ron was fine with, _more_ than fine, actually. The shadows cast over his face created an aura of enigma, yet the smoldering expression said otherwise.

In other words, the work was _mesmerizing._

"Bloody hell," he breathed. "No wonder you're the most coveted artist in the city. This is bloody _phenomenal_."

Neville flushed under his praise. "Thank you, but it wasn't easy with you bellyaching the entire time."

"Hey, that was totally uncalled for! At least I shut up after you told me to!"

"...Yeah, after I threatened you."

Ron groaned, shoving him lightly. "Shut up."

"Love you too."

* * *

 _498 words_


	6. nepenthe

**Writing Club**

Book Club - Tucker Beaumont - (word) protective, (setting) closet/storage room, (dialogue) "No. I'm as brave as soggy potato salad."

Showtime - I Can't Do It Alone - (word) Nifty

Liza's Loves - The Pharaoh - Write about making an important discovery

 **Other Challenges**

Creativity Month - Florist!AU

Saint Patrick's Day - The three-leaved shamrock - (colour) green

* * *

After his grandmother passed away, Neville was at a loss. Part of him had been dependent on his grandmother, the part that was still a helpless child, and now that she was gone, that part of him had resurfaced.

At least there was the consolation that she had died content, with her remaining family around her. He remembered the serene expression on her face, one she rarely wore. Her last words had been spoken to him, feeble yet surprisingly sharp, "Find love, Neville."

And then her lungs promptly ceased her breathing, her eyes fluttering shut, and leaving Neville more confused than ever. "Find love" was a vague final wish and Neville still carried her words in his heart.

And he always would.

* * *

Growing flowers in her prized garden had been an everlasting passion of his grandmother's. Stargazer lilies had been her favorite, if the vases scattered around her house were any indication. Stargazer lilies, strangely yet befittingly, symbolized eternal youth.

So those were the flowers he planned to purchase for her funeral.

There was a new flower shop that had recently opened a couple blocks away from his flat. It was rumored to be the best in town, merely because of the owner's sunny disposition and cheerful mannerisms.

So on one chilly Friday morning, a couple of days before his grandmother's burial, Neville braved the pedestrian traffic of London and the biting autumn air to buy flowers from Abbott's Blossoms.

A medley of scents greeted him as he walked briskly through the front door, the bell jangling above his head. He couldn't pick out one smell from the other; all he could gather was that he was in the right place.

Flowers were everywhere. On the floor, in the windows, on racks, even on the ceiling, hanging over the edge of wicker baskets. How the owner managed to care for them all was beyond him, unless she had the energy of a rabbit.

A woman was stooped over a vase on the floor, her fingers painstakingly separating the thorny stems of red roses.

Neville stood over her for a few moments, observing her. She had ash blonde hair that was pinned up in a messy bun, light skin, and a skinny figure.

"Er," he said awkwardly, because the woman seemed clearly intent on sifting through the flowers, "hi?"

The woman whipped around and hissed. A pearl of blood formed on the tip of her index finger from a small cut, apparently from the thorns.

Neville chewed his lip nervously. "I'm so sorry!" he blurted out apologetically. "I didn't mean to startle you like that! Are you okay?"

She sucked her finger for a few seconds and Neville stared, mesmerized. She had soft jade-green eyes which peered up at him curiously.

"You're fine," she said, sliding her finger out of her mouth. "It's my fault for not being careful. I'm Hannah, by the way."

Neville's throat closed. She was pretty, _really_ pretty. "Ne-Neville," he replied thickly.

Hannah stands. "Nice to meet you, Neville," she said, a warm smile on her round face. "I need to get a bandage for this, but I'll be back, yeah?"

Neville's tongue feels like it has been severed, like it's not there at all, so he nodded. Hannah swept her hair back over her shoulder and gave him another heart-stopping grin, and disappeared into the back storage room.

In her absence, he looked around the shop. There are roses, petunias, daisies, daffodils. Flowers of all shapes, sizes, colors, and species. She has decorated the shop quite tastefully, he noted. He has to compliment her on that.

A alarming, ear-piercing scream shattered the silence, causing Neville to jump and tense. His ears directed him towards the source of the scream, which came from the storage room.

"Hannah," he breathed. In desperation, he glanced around for a potential weapon to arm and defend himself with. Almost immediately, he spied a pair of hedge clippers.

In one nifty leap, he cleared the counter and tiptoed to the back, where there was door. The door was slightly cracked open, so he peeked inside and stifled a gasp.

A man had pinned Hannah to the wall with a knife digging into her neck, not enough to severely injure her but just enough to break skin. Blood leaked out in a thin line, and Neville felt a surge of something. Something he could not define, but it made him want to throttle this man, to make him pay for hurting her.

"Let her go!" he roared, bursting through the door with rage burning through him, weapon held aloft.

The man dropped his knife upon seeing the vicious look on his face, looking frightened. Neville stalked forward, his lips drawn in an ugly sneer.

"Go," he snarled, waving the clippers. "Go in that corner until the police come, before I do something I'll regret."

"Okay, okay, I'm going." The man held his hands up in surrender and slowly retreated to the corner and Hannah looked at Neville, shaken but relieved.

He approached Hannah, genuine concern painted on his face. "Are you okay?" he asked for the second time that day.

Hannah's face was unreadable, but it broke into a happy expression. "Thank you!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace.

Neville stiffened at her initial touch, but relaxed in her arms. "No problem," he mumbled.

* * *

The next day, during the afternoon, Neville walked into the flower shop once more, intending to buy the flowers he had not gotten to purchase the day prior, only to be greeted by a shower of rose petals and Hannah's bubbly face. They had not seen each other since Hannah had been admitted to the hospital for an injury check.

"Hullo, Neville!" she said enthusiastically.

"What's all this?"

"To thank you, duh." Hannah beamed. "You were so courageous, confronting that man like that."

"No, not really," said Neville, embarrassed. To be honest, he had no idea what had overcome him in that moment. Protectiveness, perhaps, but it most certainly hadn't been courage. "I'm as brave as a soggy potato salad."

Hannah laughed. "Don't deny it, silly," she admonished. "You saved my life!"

Now that was something he couldn't refute. "I did," he said bashfully, his cheeks turning red. "I don't want you to die. I care about you."

Another brilliant smile lit up her face. "Likewise," she added, with a wink for good measure. And suddenly, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his flaming cheek.

Needless to say, he was struck speechless.

* * *

He did end up getting the flowers for his grandmother's funeral, but he also got something better: the satisfaction of fulfilling his grandmother's last request.

And when Hannah showed up to the interment looking absolutely beautiful, he could almost hear her smirk from eight feet under.

 _You found love. Thank you._

* * *

 _1143 words_


	7. insurgent

Written for...

 **Assignment 6 - Media Studies Task 4 -** Pulp Fiction - Write a story that's told out of chronological order

 **Writing Club -** Character Appreciation - 22. Order of the Phoenix

 **Writing Club -** Disney Challenge - Giving up something important to you - Write about someone sacrificing something precious to them

 **Writing Club -** Showtime - Class - (quote) "Ain't no justice in the world and there ain't nothing you can do about it."

 **Writing Club -** CYB - (dialogue) "Don't believe everything you read."

 **Creativity Month -** Prison!AU

 **Crafty Cooking -** Mint - Era: Riddle

 **Insane House -** 245\. AU - Prison

* * *

 _An AU in which all Golden Trio characters are in the Riddle Era, as well as the Order of the Phoenix. This is kind of a Rebel!AU mixed with a Prison and Assassin!AU. Riddle is a tyrant, basically. There is no magic._

 _(Not a time travel fic)_

* * *

"This is your new home, Neville Longbottom." The officer shoved him unceremoniously into the jail cell and slammed the door shut, a smug smirk plastered on his pudgy face. "Make yourself comfortable, because it's going to be a _long_ six months."

Neville ground his teeth. "You will _not_ break me, no matter how much you try."

"We'll see about that."

* * *

 _"Neville Longbottom, you are hereby sentenced to life in prison for the murder of Tom Riddle," the judge declared._

 _Neville did not struggle as he was dragged away, but sneered at the judge._

 _"He deserved to die. I have no regrets."_

* * *

Neville spooned dry porridge into his mouth, grimacing at the taste. "Who made this, your grandmother?" he taunted.

Officer Boyd scowled. "Keep your cheeky comments to yourself," he snarled.

Neville smirked, chuckling mirthlessly. "Says the man who has worms for brains."

Officer Boyd drew himself up, towering imperiously over Neville, but the latter was not fazed in the slightest.

"Now listen here, _Longbottom,"_ said the officer snidely. "You may laugh and throw disparaging witticisms at me, but remember, you are no match for justice. Justice does not listen to your goading remarks, nor does it care. It rightfully isolates the bad from the good, and you rightfully belong in the former category. You have no room to be insolent, so just shut up and listen to your superiors!"

"Nice speech, Boyd," commented Neville idly, having long tuned out Boyd's voice. "How long did it take you to rehearse it?"

As Boyd spluttered, Neville stood and looked him in the eye, his own eyes hard. "Justice is not always correct," he said firmly. "You preach about it, you worship it so much, but it's flawed. Don't believe everything you read. Or see, for that matter. Ain't no justice in the world and there ain't nothing you can do about it."

He sat, satisfied, and watched as Boyd rapidly purpled.

* * *

 _Sirens wailed and flashing lights awakened the neighbors. The police rushed into the house in question and emerged ten minutes later with a man in handcuffs. Strangely, the man was smiling._

 _"I have accomplished my mission."_

* * *

There was a loud explosion and debris rained down everywhere. Neville's clothes were singed and he was forced to shield his head with his arms, but he was grinning.

 _They came for me._

* * *

 _"You have a crucial task, Longbottom," Moody barked. "_ _Infiltrate Riddle's tightly-knit circle of followers and when he lets his guard down, kill him._ _"_

 _"With pleasure, Lieutenant Moody. He tortured my parents. He murdered my friends. His death will be worth the repercussions. In addition, it will bring tremendous victory to the Order of the Phoenix."_

 _Moody clapped his back, a small smile spreading across his gnarled face. "You're a true hero, Longbottom. And we will get you out of the prison, no matter what the costs. Now c'mere, we need to devise a plan to ensure Riddle doesn't get suspicious._

* * *

"We came for you, as we promised," Harry said, his forehead gleaming with perspiration but his eyes shining with triumph. "Now let's get outta here. I reckon Moody will have our heads if we're apprehended."

Neville laughed, pure unadulterated relief resonating within his body.

There was still so much to do, still so much to say. They weren't out in the clear yet; the police force would be hunting him down and placing a bounty on his head. It was not over yet.

But justice had been served.

* * *

 _581 words_


	8. intoxication

**Writing Club - CYB - (dialogue) "Right. I knew that."**

 **Creativity Month - TattooArtist!AU (NevilleHarry)**

 **Small Island Holidays - London - (character) Harry Potter, (word) crowd, (emotion) overwhelmed**

* * *

Neville's timer was twenty seconds and counting.

"Mate, are you sure you're ready for this?" Dean asked hesitantly, his eyes fixed on Neville rather than the door. "He could be anyone."

Neville's jaw was set. "I don't care who he is," he said firmly. "It could be bloody Harry Potter, and it wouldn't matter to me. They're my soulmate."

Ten seconds.

"Or it could be Draco Malfoy," Dean suggested slyly.

Neville shook his head. "It can't be. His soulmate is Astoria."

Five seconds. Neville stared at the door, bracing himself.

And promptly choked on his saliva.

Harry Potter - _oh my God, he had actually been right -_ walked through the door, and Neville could've sworn his heart stopped as their eyes met.

He looked straight out of the front page of a magazine. Chiseled jaw, tan skin, tousled ebony hair, vivid emerald eyes.

"Are you Neville Longbottom?"

Dean nudged him and Neville jumped out of his stupor, his mind crowded with emotions, the most prominent overwhelmed. "Y-Yes, I am," he squeaked. His cheeks immediately turned crimson from mortification.

Harry's eyes scanned the poster hanging from the ceiling. "Do you guys do dragon tattoos?"

His out-of-the-blue question earned him a raised eyebrow from Dean. "It says at the top that we're willing to do tattoos that aren't on the list," he clarified.

"Right. I knew that." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, flexing his muscles, and Neville practically drooled.

"Where do you want it?" Dean asked, seeing as his friend was in no state to continue the conversation.

Harry smirked and Neville's cheeks, if possible, heated up even more. "My chest."

And Neville died. Metaphorically, of course.

But it felt as good as. His skin was flushed, his palms sweaty, and his mouth salivating. Harry Potter's chest, exposed? There was no way in _hell_ he was missing that.

He was so absorbed at staring at Harry that he didn't see the almost devious grin cross Dean's face. "Neville'll do it, won't you, Neville?"

Most girls (and guys) would be dying to be in his position right now.

"Of-of course," Neville stammered.

And then, without a warning, Harry pulled his shirt over his head and Neville's jaw hit the floor.

Dear sweet Jesus, he didn't how he was going to make it through this entire operation.

* * *

 **385 words**


	9. extricate

**Writing Club - Disney Challenge - Under the Sea - Use the dialogue, "It's better down where it's wetter."**

 **Creativity Month - AdultWorker!AU - HermioneNeville**

 **Small Island - Liverpool - (word) loud, (action) going on a night out, (word) friendly**

 **HPFC - Easter Egg Hunt - (thing) shot glass**

* * *

Lights flashed and loud music roared. Dancers were swaying their hips provocatively and winking at any male who passed by. Even more men were hanging around the bar, drooling and gazing up at the women with lustful eyes.

Hermione hated doing this. It was low, extremely low.

She was one of the women on top of the bar, shaking her behind and taking off her clothes for all to witness, just so that she could earn some money. It was humiliating, really. She wasn't a hooker, nor was she a stripper, but right now, all of the signs were pointing to it.

(She just prayed to all deities that none of her friends came in and saw her doing this.)

She winked flirtatiously at one boy who was sitting alone at a table with only a shot glass. He was handsome, in a boyish way, with slightly chubby cheeks and bright eyes. The man looked up, but he didn't smile nor leer at her. He just stared at her with a gobsmacked expression, one someone wears when they are surprised.

The song ended and Hermione gratefully slid off of the bar, but not without another man whispering in her ear lecherously. "It's better down where it's wetter. Come by my place, and I'll show you a _real_ good time."

"No thanks," she politely returned.

The man stood from his stool, towering over her. "You dare say no?!" he rumbled threateningly. "You ungrateful _slut!"_

Hermione surreptitiously reached for the emergency button under the counter. She could sense a tantrum brewing; it was best to go ahead and alert the cops before a brawl broke out.

"Excuse me, sir," she said, fighting to contain her temper, "but I'm not a prostitute. I'm just a dancer." The words tasted like bile in her mouth.

The man swelled. "Yeah, well-"

"Leave her alone!" someone across the bar called, and to her shock, Hermione saw it was the man she had winked at earlier.

The man whipped around. "Who are you?" he thundered.

"Her boyfriend," said the unnamed man, crossing the room and slinging an arm around her shoulders protectively. It was a pleasant weight, thought Hermione. To continue the ruse, she wrapped an arm around the man's waist and shot her aggressor a glare.

They had an audience now. All eyes around the bar were on them, and the bartender was watching with slight curiosity.

The man looked torn between punching his savior or leaving and avoiding an arrest. He chose the latter.

"I'm sorry, mate," he said, clapping him on the back. "You should keep an eye on her."

Hermione bristled, but her "boyfriend" patted her on the shoulder. The other man threw them loathsome glares and stomped off huffily.

The activity around them resumed and Hermione immediately turned to thank her savior, only to see him staring down at her. She swallowed.

"Are you Hermione Granger?"

She nodded, cocking her head questioningly. "How do you know my name?"

"I'm Neville, Neville Longbottom. Remember we were in the same homeroom every year in junior high?"

Her eyes lit up with recognition. "I do!" she exclaimed, her attitude changing to friendly. "What happened to you?" A blush followed that question as she realized what she had said.

Neville smiled. "It's okay, 'Mione," he said, using a former nickname fondly. "I grew up."

"You grew up well," Hermione teased, nudging him playfully. "You got a girl?"

"Yup," he replied solemnly, and Hermione felt a stab of jealousy. "She's standing with me right now."

Hermione glanced around, expecting to see some gorgeous woman with legs a meter long, only to see Neville looking at her with amusement.

"Me?" she asked, bewildered. "I'm not-"

"Well, she will be my girlfriend soon," he amended, "right after I ask her on a date."

Hermione grinned.

* * *

 _636 words_


	10. effusive

**Writing Club**

TV Show of the Month - Willow Rosenberg - (item) pencil, (action) studying, (dialogue) "Well, when I'm with a boy I like, it's hard for me to say anything cool or witty or at all. I can usually make a few vowel sounds, and then I have to go away."

 **Other**

Creativity Month - Rockstar!AU

* * *

"Now who's this boy you like again?" Alice sets down her tea and takes a seat next to her son.

Neville, who is frantically scribbling away, pauses. "Mum, I'm _studying,_ so can we please not talk about this now? Stop meddling."

"I was just wondering." Alice studies her son's weary face. "It's my job to meddle in your life, as your mother. I genuinely care who you like and who you don't. I could offer some advice."

Neville drops his pencil. "You're right, I'm sorry. But if you must know, there's no point. He's way out of my league."

"Who is it?"

"It's Harry Potter."

Alice stares at him, and Neville shrinks self-consciously under her gaze. And then, a warm smile splits her face.

"Honey, there's nothing wrong with having a celebrity crush-"

"It's not a celebrity crush, Mum," he interjects, his eyes serious. "I'm really in love with him. I love him."

His mother falls silent. Neville looks at her defiantly, his gaze unwavering. There's nothing wrong with being in love with your rockstar best friend, and Neville will not shy away from that fact that he loves Harry Potter.

"Sweetie," his mother says gently, placing a weathered hand on his arm and leaning forward, "he's not out of your league. Not as far away as you'd think. Maybe he reciprocates your feelings. Have you hinted at it, or talked about with him?"

Neville sighs forlornly. "Well, when I'm with a boy I like, it's hard for me to say anything cool or witty or at all. I can usually make a few vowel sounds, and then I have to go away. I can barely talk to him coherently like I used to when we were children. When I didn't have feelings for him, when I just saw him as a friend and nothing more. But now, times have changed and so has my perspective of him. I really love him, Mum, and I see a future with him. If only I could muster the courage to confess to him."

Alice's eyes sparkled and her smile lit up her whole face. "Well, you don't have to do that now. Come on out, Harry."

And to his astonishment, the love of his life opened the door, the broadest of smiles on his face.

* * *

 _383 words_


	11. circumspect

**Creativity Month - Circus!AU**

* * *

When Neville killed his mother at the tender age of fifteen, it was purely an accident. A glass in his hand, his fist clenching, and the explosion as shards flew everywhere. His reflexes forced him to duck behind the sofa, but his mother was not spared.

Next thing he knows, a fragment of glass is embedded in her throat and blood is pooling around her hair. A look of shock is permanently frozen on her beautiful features; the sight is unnerving.

So, he does what all fifteen-year-olds do when they accidentally murder their mothers: he runs.

* * *

He lives on the street for a few weeks, surviving on scant scraps of food he finds in dumpsters. His outwardly appearance hollows; his cheeks are jaundiced and sunken, his physique malnourished and dwindling further. It's only when a benevolent nurse finds him burrowing in the dumpster like some raccoon his life marginally takes a turn for the better.

He resides in her home for a few months. She, her husband, and her ten-month-old son are hospitable, but Neville still feels empty, like something is missing. Excitement, perhaps, or family?

It doesn't take him long to realize it's both.

So, he flees. Again.

(His past has a tight grip on him.)

* * *

He finally finds refuge in the most unexpected of places: the circus.

The circus is a rather dreary one; they haven't had a good show in months. But considering the cast and crew, it's not all that surprising, but Neville finds them the closest thing to family since his own parents.

Intellectual Hermione Granger, who has brains but a fear of heights. Bumbling Ron Weasley, whose freckles stand out more than he does. And a medley of others who don't quite fit in.

And then, there's Draco Malfoy.

There's no true words to describe him. Cynical, reserved, and aloof? It doesn't summarize him.

But Neville feels an instant connection with him. He has potential, yet he's been tied down by something. Something's been holding him back, and Neville thinks he knows what it is.

Because it's what has been restraining him.

Fear of his past.

* * *

 _352 words_


	12. saudade

**Assignment 6 - Media Studies - Little Shop of Horrors -** Write about being in love with a co-worker

 **Creativity Month -** Assassin!AU - Neville/Tonks (Nymphadora)

* * *

 _Just a pre-warning for implied murder._

 _Side note: Neville's character is not canon. It's not supposed to be. His canon personality wouldn't fit in this plot._

* * *

"And the Metamorphmagus has struck again," the newscaster declared. "Deputy Sheriff Lucius Malfoy was found dead i his home this morning along with his wife. The police are certain that it _was_ the Metamorphmagus, however, they have not released the details of the murder, for they are still investigating. Stay tuned for more..."

Neville sighed, turning off the television as his father entered the room.

"They haven't caught the Metamorphmagus yet," reported Neville gravely. "Malfoy's parents were murdered, but apparently they can't find any clues. The police are giving the excuse of 'still investigating.'"

"Well, I'd say good riddance, but not even Lucius Malfoy deserves to be slaughtered," Frank said wearily, sitting down next to his son. "Whoever this 'Metamorphmagus' is, they're causing a lot of mayhem around here. It makes me fear for our family. What if we're next?"

Neville nodded sympathetically, but his reply was cut off by an extensive yawn. Frank rested a hand on his shoulder.

"You should head to bed, son," he said. "You have work tomorrow."

Neville was simply too exhausted to respond, so he nodded tiredly and dragged himself upstairs. Frank turned the television back on the moment he was out of earshot.

"I hope whoever the Metamorphmagus is, they're captured soon," he muttered, rubbing his temple.

* * *

"Wotcher, Neville!"

The mallets banging against his skull increased their pace at the sound of the chipper voice, as if they _knew_ he was allergic to peppy voices early in the morning.

"Morning, Tonks," he ground out, wanting nothing more than bang his head against the wall, but he couldn't do that. Someone of a higher position might see him and classify him as insane.

"How are you?" She set a pile of papers on his desk and he internally groaned at the prospect of doing _more_ paperwork.

"Same as always," he replied, shrugging. "Paperwork, eat, more paperwork. It's an endless cycle."

Tonks threw back her head and released a glorious laugh, followed by another one, and another. Bells tinkled as she laughed, and Neville's stomach twisted itself into knots.

He loved her laugh. It was rich, melodious, and carried a modicum of mellowness, like she had been drinking. However, it wasn't raspy and grating; it appealed to the ears and made his heart sing.

 _He_ had done that. _He_ had made her laugh.

"Nice one, boss," she tossed over her shoulder as she exited, a luminous smile on her face. Heat crept up the back of his neck and he buried his head in the massive heap of papers.

 _He was so whipped._

* * *

 _"Mr Longbottom, you're receiving a new secretary," his boss said, adjusting his tie and peering over the rim of his glasses. "She will arrive shortly."_

 _Neville nodded tersely. He hoped that this secretary was more equipped to handle the responsibilities that came with this job._

 _—:—_

 _His heart plummeted the moment he saw her. Vivid blue eyes that sparkled with a hint of mischief, pink hair that contrasted starkly with the bland color scheme of the room._

 _She was..._ interesting, _he mused. She was a rebel wrapped in an ribbon of enigma, someone who he wanted to get to know better._

 _Someone he might even like._

* * *

It hit him with the force of a boulder. It was three in the morning, he was sleep-deprived, and a total, complete shell of himself.

But somehow, his mind was alert.

He blindly groped around for his cellphone and dialed the first number that came to mind, his friend's number, which he had memorized backwards and forwards. She was his self—determined love counselor, his coach for all things that concerned his feelings.

Hermione's sleepy voice answered. "Hello, who is this?"

"It's Neville."

"Neville?" Instantly, she seemed to wake up. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he answered, a trace of dreaminess in his voice, "except a _big_ revelation. Hermione, I think I'm in love."

There was silence on the other end and Neville briefly entertained the idea of yelling into the phone, just to ensure that she was awake.

"...Oh." Her voice was soft, with an underlying layer of curiosity. "With who?"

"My secretary. Tonks. Oh Hermione, she's the most _beautiful_ person I have ever met. She's funny, she's witty, she's full of light and laughter and—oh God, I think I want to marry this woman."

Another beat of silence. Neville waited, his heart pounding.

"Oh, Neville, that's _wonderful!_ " Her exclamation came so unexpectedly and at such a high pitch that it caused Neville to jump.

"You have to tell her as soon as possible," Hermione continued excitedly, her voice enviously enthusiastic for someone who had just woken up. "I bet my wedding ring that she'll feel the same way."

"No, no, I can't!" Neville flailed about, panicked. "I can't tell her!"

"And why not? Give me one good reason."

"What if she rejects me?"

A heavy sigh sounded through the phone. "Neville," said Hermione exasperatedly, "what did I just tell you?"

"That I have to tell her as soon as possible."

"No, right after that."

Neville searched his memory. "She might feel the same way?"

"Ding—ding—ding, we have a winner," Hermione deadpanned. "I think she likes you too, you know. Have you seen the way she looks at you? Like you're her whole world. I had lunch with her last week and she's obviously enamored with you. I wouldn't be surprised if you asked her out and she said yes."

Neville's heart did a somersault. "You mean she really fancies me?"

Hermione sighed again and the line went dead, but Neville was too ecstatic to care.

In his haste to plan for their soon-to-be date, he forgot to sleep.

* * *

Neville was in an unusually good mood, and it surprised his father when he came downstairs _not_ looking like a herd of elephants slept on his face.

"You seem in a good mood, Nev," said Frank, looking slightly shocked. "What's the occasion?"

"Oh, just telling a girl that I love her," he said dreamily.

Frank's eyebrows lifted, but he didn't comment.

* * *

The breaking news headline flashed across the screen and the anchors appeared, looking solemn. Neville looked up from the mountain of paperwork he was sifting through and watched the screen attentively.

"I'm afraid to start your morning off with this news, but it seems that Sheriff Nott's body has been found in a creek," the female anchor announced sorrowfully. "And it is again believed to be the work of Metamorphmagus, whose crimes will earn her a life sentence in jail, that is, if she is caught. The police are still scouring the area for evidence..."

At that moment, Tonks rushed in, a radiant smile on her face, her hair slightly dripping. "You asked for me, Mr Longbottom?"

"Call me Nev—is that a twig in your hair?"

"A twig?" She combed her fingers through her hair in search of it. "Where?"

"Here, let me help you." He plucked the twig out of her and emitted a harsh gasp as a startling yet silent discovery was made on his part.

"Maple wood," he whispered faintly, his mind racing. The bark was hard and rough, and there was only place where that bark could be found.

"It's you," he said, taking a step back as all the pieces were put together. "You're the Metamorphmagus."

"Me, the Metamorphmagus?" She laughed nervously. "Where would you get an accusation like that?"

"This twig." He jabbed a finger towards it. "This kind of wood is found in only one place in the entire _city_ — _the very same creek where Nott was murdered!"_

"So, what does that prove?" she snapped. "I could've been taking a stroll in that forest. That doesn't support your ludicrous claim that I murdered him."

"You lie." He directed his finger to her wet hair. "The police closed off that area, so no one could get within a ten meter radius. And also, your hair is wet, but it isn't raining."

"So? I could've been washing my hair."

"But when would you have had time to go for a 'stroll'?" Neville asked smugly. "Washing hair takes a large amount of time."

"But—"

"And finally," Neville interrupted, his smile growing bitterly, "you're not denying any of my accusations. You keep saying 'I could've', which doesn't really deny anything. You're caught, Metamorphmagus."

Tonks scowled, wringing her hands.

* * *

Under Neville and the guard's watchful eyes, and at least a fifty-foot jump facing her if she did try to escape, Tonks didn't dare move. The police arrived shortly after, and after an explanation from Neville, arrested her.

But no one stuck around to see Neville, shattered and heartbroken, sink to his knees and cry as reality hit him. No one was around to comfort him; the day continued.

He was all alone.

* * *

 _1459 words_


	13. vengeance

**Creativity Month -** Slavery/Servant!AU

* * *

"You!" Madam Lestrange snaps her fingers at Neville, who suppresses a scowl and steps forward. "Get me two cups of tea. I want green tea and Cissy wants-" she glances at her sister, who mouths something. Madam Lestrange turns back to Neville. "Cissy wants chamomile. Get them, at once."

"Of course, madam."

Neville shuffles towards the door, deliberately going as slow as possible to irk Madam Lestrange. He can feel her irritated gaze piercing holes in the back of his head.

"Hurry up, boy, I don't have all day!" she barks.

Neville increases his pace, but smirks.

* * *

 _He writhes against the ropes trussing him to the wall, forced to watch as his parents scream in agony. Madam Lestrange stands over them, grinning madly._

 _"So what will it be, Neville Longbottom? Life or death?" She gestures to his parents._

 _"Fine," Neville growls, halting his efforts to escape, "I'll become your servant."_

* * *

Neville hisses as he burns his hand on the stove, pain searing through his flesh. The angry burn sizzles on his skin and Neville curses.

The smell of acrid smoke taints the air and Neville's nostrils tingle. "Shit," he swears, turning off the stove.

The tea is spoiled, both sets. Neville's eyes light up.

It will his own little revenge.

* * *

 _Madam Lestrange looms over him, whip swaying in her hand, her eyes flashing dangerously._

 _"Move it boy," she snarls. "If you don't finish this, then..." She lets the sentence dangle, implying something Neville would rather not know._

 _He shuts his eyes for the briefest of moments and prays that this is all a nightmare._

 _It's not. He's stuck like this, tied to captivity. But he's here for his parents. His parents need him in order to survive._

 _He's strong. He can do this._

 _He's Neville. He can do anything._

* * *

 _300 words_


	14. bewitching

**Creativity Month** \- Actor!AU

 **Writing Club -** Days of the Month - Int. Forests Day - Write a story set in a forest.

* * *

"The cast of _A_ _Midsummer Night's Dream_ is as follows," Mrs. Roth announced, peering over her spectacles. "Oberon is..."

"Do you think you'll get to be Lysander?" Harry whispered to Neville, who looked a little peaky.

Neville nodded silently, brushing a sheen of sweat off of his forehead.

"...and Lysander is Neville Longbottom..."

" _Good job,"_ Harry whispered, nudging him. "You need to go on stage."

He gave his friend a light shove and Neville stumbled awkwardly out onto the stage, flushing as people snickered.

"...and Hermia is Cho Chang..."

Neville's skin suddenly felt hot as Cho smiled prettily and gracefully made her way to the stage, her long ebony hair swishing and her hands folded in front of her.

"Hi Neville," she greeted, and butterflies exploded in his stomach.

"H-Hi, Cho," he mumbled.

To say he fancied Cho was simultaneously an overstatement and an understatement. She made him feel... _things._ Things he couldn't put a name to, but he could describe vividly.

Fancying Cho was like running a marathon, or flying at the speed of light. It was also slow and passionate, like dancing in the rain without a care in the world.

Cho was very, _very_ pretty. She had waist-long sleek black hair that shone in the light and gorgeous eyes that were like quicksand: they sucked you in without any warning. She was the envy of all the girls, made boys swarm to her like flies.

Cho Chang was, to sum it up, _hypnotizing_ _._

 _And Neville was going to star beside her._

His stomach lurched unpleasantly.

* * *

They were shooting the forest scene today. He was in hair and makeup, but his jaw dropped when he saw _her_ , as did everyone else's.

Hermia was supposed to be pretty, but Cho put her to _shame._

Her hair was styled in elaborate ringlets and framed her smooth cheeks. She was clad in a modest A-line dress that was a rich shade of cream. Her matching heels padded against the grass.

(It also didn't help that her dazzling smile struck them all into speechlessness, and poor Neville almost tripped over air.)

In other words, she looked like Aphrodite herself.

Neville's stomach knotted and he licked his lips apprehensively.

This was going to be a _long_ rehearsal.

* * *

 _360 words_


	15. jocund

**Creativity Month -** Road Trip!AU

* * *

" _The wheels on the bus go round and round,_ " Seamus sang drunkenly, a bottle of beer in his hand.

"Well, I s'pose he's out for the count," Neville said, jerking his thumb back as Seamus continued to sing obnoxiously, his voice scratchy and raspy.

"You think?" Dean snorted, who was at the wheel. "He's just getting started. There's a lot more booze in the back."

Three audible groans were heard. Ron pursed his lips as Harry rolled his eyes.

"Let's hope he'll leave some for us, because by the end of this trip, we're going need it."

* * *

"What happened?" Seamus whispered groggily, stirring and wincing. "The last thing I remember is opening a bottle..."

"You were drunk," Ron informed him shortly.

"...Oh." He rubbed his forehead. "My head hurts like mad."

"Here. I figured since we decided to bring so much alcohol, we'd need to bring the pills as well." Neville stood over him, a bottle of hangover pills in his hand. He popped it open and passed one to Seamus, who took it gratefully.

"Thanks, mate."

* * *

"Who know Glasgow had so many sexy women?" Seamus winked at a curvaceous blonde, who giggled.

"Speak for yourself," Harry replied, shrugging. "You don't have a girlfriend waiting for you at home- _a girlfriend who I love very, very much,_ " he added hastily to Ron, who raised a dubious eyebrow.

"Good," the redhead said, appeased.

* * *

"Oxford is so quiet," Seamus moaned, "and not nearly as many sexy women."

"Because it has a university," Dean responded evenly, "but its architecture is brilliant. I wish I hadn't left behind my sketchbook in the bus."

Seamus didn't listen to the tail end of his sentence. "That explains why all of the girls look like swots," he mumbled.

Harry shot him a look.

* * *

"You know, that was fun," Harry said idly one evening, as they sipped from bottles of beer while sprawled out on cots.

"Aside from Seamus being drunk half the time," Ron amended for him.

"Yeah, good times," Seamus muttered, shooting him a glare.

The four of them laughed.

* * *

 _344 words - and that's a wrap :)_


End file.
